Page 7 of Embattled Return

He drew back enough to look into her eyes. “I don’t like business trips.”

She laughed and slipped off his lap, moving to hug the man standing beside them. “Hi, Chad. You let him drag you along, huh?”

Chad laughed, his blue eyes twinkling. He tipped his cream-colored hat back on his head. “He’s just so cute, Shannon, with those big dark eyes. He needed a battle buddy today taking the kids to the doctor, so I volunteered.”

“Fuck you, asshole,” John growled, swinging around. “You were just bored. I could have done it.”

Chad laughed and made a face. “Maybe.”

“John,” she admonished. “Language.”

Scowling, he looked at Chad. “Fudge you, asshole.”

Shannon shook her head, laughing at the banter. The two of them always had each other’s backs, so she shouldn’t have been surprised to see them together. She glanced over her shoulder. Logan had hung back, moving his bad side to the wall, but he watched the men, seeming a little shocked. She held out a hand and tried to remember if she had told him her husband was disabled. No, she didn’t think she had. She barely even thought about John being bound to a wheelchair anymore. It was just part of him.

Chad had more visible issues, but he didn’t try to hide them anymore. The tendons in his damaged left hand had contracted to the point of almost making a fist, and though they’d faded, the scars on the side of his neck were still visible.

“Logan Vance, this is my husband John Palmer and our good friend Chad Lowell, two of the partners from the Lost and Found Investigative Service.”

John reached out a gloved hand. “Were you hitting on my wife, Mr. Vance? Do I need to kick your ass?”

Logan blinked, obviously aggravated. “No, sir. Your wife was just being kind and helping me out with my bag. I didn’t hit on her, I swear.”

“John,” Shannon breathed. “Stop. You’re embarrassing the guy.”

Logan’s face had flushed, the scars going pale against the floridness of the rest of his skin. John continued to glower, even as he shook Logan’s hand. “Welcome to Colorado, then.”

Chad stretched out a hand as well. “Chad Lowell. You have family out here, Mr. Vance?”

Logan shook his head. “Not anymore, I don’t think. There’s a chance, I suppose. My father’s family was from here, but he said all the family was gone by the time he moved east. I just want to see our old house and the neighborhood where we lived.”

Shannon looked at John, widening her eyes, trying to convey that there was more to the story. Her brilliant husband seemed to understand. “Do you know where it is? We can do a quick search at the office.”

Logan’s face shifted into a frown. “No, thank you. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

John shrugged, negligently. “You haven’t taken up any of my time. Why don’t you come with us to the office? A few keystrokes and I should be able to tell you all you need to know about your family. I’ll be helping a fellow veteran out.”

Logan looked at his feet, then around the milling people of the airport. Shannon had a feeling he didn’t want to try to make his way through the mass alone. He would do it if he had to, but she could see the struggle in his face.

“Have you rented a car yet?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “I planned on seeing what kind of shuttles were running.”

“Then consider us your shuttle, for now,” she laughed. “You can get a taxi when you leave the office, if you want.”

His eyes slid over John’s chair before, with a sigh, he nodded. “Okay. Let me grab my other bag.”

They walked over and retrieved their bags, the last ones on the belt. Chad took them both, motioning for Shannon and Logan to follow John through the throng. As usual, her husband plowed through people like he was in a race, glaring at those that took too long to move. A wheeled baggage cart drifted over, rubbing the wheels of his chair. The woman pushing the cart was talking to her companion and didn’t even see it happen.

“Hey, Oblivious,” John snapped. “Watch what the fuck you’re doing.”

The woman’s attention jerked around, and she corrected her cart. “I am so sorry,” she gasped, her face going pale.

Shannon followed along in her husband’s wake, keeping pace with Logan on his crutches. She leaned over conspiratorially. “John suffers from a particular form of wheelchair rage. He has no problem giving people a piece of his mind. Usually with the F-word involved.”

Logan smirked, the first humorous response she’d seen from him. “I think we can all appreciate the F word.”

She snorted. “Yeah, I know. Believe me, I’ve heard the arguments.”